


Blue Christmas

by ValBirch



Series: Monster Hunters [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff, Monster Hunters, Sequel (sort of), flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValBirch/pseuds/ValBirch
Summary: The four Christmases that Mike doesn't get to celebrate with Eleven. And the one that he finally does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is a companion piece to my longer story _Monster Hunters_. It's set between the canon of Season One and the end of my story in 1987. Basically, a bunch of Christmas angst that Mike faces, topped off with some fluff because obviously.
> 
> Dedicated, once again, to the incredible IrisVioletta, who feeds my flangst and creativity with brilliant ideas <3
> 
> p.s. it's not necessary to read Monster Hunters prior to this—there are a few events from the earlier story referenced, but I think this works as a standalone just as well.

_Year One_

Christmas of ’83 isn’t the greatest for Mike Wheeler, despite the plethora of presents awaiting him under the large evergreen in the living room on the snowy morning of the twenty-fifth. Mike is certain that the vintage mint-edition Detective Comics #1 and the Atari are not only expressions of his parents’ love, but also a hoped-for means of distracting him from the events of a month earlier. Yet, the one thing that Mike wants more than anything else in the world, more than any object wrapped in bright red paper and green ribbons, is to have Eleven there with his family, drinking cocoa and emptying her stocking onto the floor to delve into its many tiny treasures. Still, Mike is appreciative of their effort and he smiles for pictures and helps his mother by tidying the remnants of wrapping paper that litter the living room floor after Holly pulls Nancy upstairs to play with her new Barbie dolls. Mike even invites Lucas over for a couple hours in the afternoon. Lucas brings along the old issues of X-Men his father bought him and the boys carefully comb through the pages, reading together and munching on Karen’s much-loved shortbread cookies until Lucas’s mother calls and tells him to come home because his grandparents will be over for dinner shortly. 

Following Lucas’s departure, Mike quickly peeks into Eleven’s blanket fort, looking for some sign of change; and indication that she’s been there. As usual, each crease and fold is exactly as he left it. With a sigh, Mike turns away from the fort, now a monument to his lost friend, and gathers up his comics. At the top of the stairs, he closes the light before stalking up to his bedroom. 

It’s after an hour that he loses interest in Batman’s many adventures and tucks away the stack of comic books he had been flipping through, settling deep into his blankets and grabbing instead his SuperComm, absently switching between channels of static, hoping for some other sound to fall into his ears. 

“Mike?” Nancy’s voice chimes from the other side of his bedroom door with a soft knock.

“Come in,” Mike calls out, returning the radio to its usual spot on his bedside table, though not turning it off.

“How are you doing?” Nancy asks as she enters the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She’s on her way out of the house—Mike can tell by the coat, hat, and gloves she’s bundled up in. 

“I’m good,” Mike lies, “Where are you headed?” He already knows the answer, but figures the question is a good a way as any to change the subject and divert attention from his less than stellar mood. 

“Steve’s,” she answers, “Since he was here yesterday for dinner and all that.”

“Cool,” Mike nods, “Have fun. And wish him a Merry Christmas from me.” Nancy smiles softly at her little brother. 

“Did you like your presents?” Nancy asks brightly, trying to mask the concern that she knows is etched deep in her eyes. 

“Yeah.” Mike replies absently, “Thanks for the books. I’ve been meaning to read some more Asimov lately.” 

“Glad you’re happy with them,” Nancy says. A tense silence falls over the room and Mike avoids looking at his sister, instead focusing on the wall behind her. He’s pretty sure he can hear his heart beating in his ears. 

“Well, I’ll…” Nancy begins, but Mike’s already started speaking, uncomfortable with the silence and needing to get something off his chest.

“It was cool of you to get Jonathan that camera,” he says, sitting up and leaning against his headboard. 

“That was all Steve,” Nancy laughs, “I definitely couldn’t afford anything like that.” 

“It was still cool, Nance,” Mike insists. Another beat. Mike swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy nods, but she doesn’t sound entirely sure, “It’s hard. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Mike sighs, “I wish I had something to remember her with. Like the pictures you have of Barb. I wish I would have…”

“You had no idea she’d…” Nancy lets her voice trail off, “You didn’t know what would happen, Mike. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Thanks Nance,” Mike says, unconvinced but thankful for her trying, “You should go though…”

“Merry Christmas, Mike.”

Karen, outside her son’s door and eavesdropping with only the kindest of intentions, quickly hurries away as her children’s conversation draws to an end. She steels herself and walks down the hall, back to her bedroom. Licking her lips nervously, Karen opens the top drawer of her dresser and pulls out a manila folder that was left on her kitchen table just over a month ago. Attached to it with a paperclip is a small photograph of a strange girl whom she’d never met but who was undoubtedly remarkable. With care, Karen slips the photograph away from the folder and tucks it back under her summer t-shirts, currently stored away for the season. As she shuffles off to Ted’s study, she hopes to God that she’s making the right decision. 

The next morning, Karen, warm in the new robe Ted had given her for Christmas, knocks on Mike’s door before anyone else is awake. Receiving no answer, Karen quietly lets herself in and walks softly to her son’s bed, glancing down at him with worried eyes. Even asleep, he looks so troubled these days. She sets herself down on the edge of his bed and gently pushes stray locks of his messy dark hair away from his eyes—eyes that flutter open slowly at the feeling. 

“Mom?” Mike mumbles, slowly coming out of his sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Michael,” Karen smiles softly. Mike sits halfway up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Karen slides the envelope into his hands and he looks down at it, confused for a moment. Christmas was yesterday…unless he had dreamed the entire thing. 

“It’s one extra present,” Karen informs him, reading the confusion on his face, “Because things have been tough this year.” 

With half a smile, Mike gently tears open the flap on the envelope and pulls out the photograph. His hands immediately begin to shake and he looks up at his mother with tear-filled eyes. Karen opens her arms just as Mike folds forward into them, his back shaking with sobs.

“Thank you,” she feels him whisper against her tear-soaked shoulder. 

\--- 

_Year Two_

After the presents have been opened and the breakfast dishes have been washed, the Wheeler family dresses in their Sunday best and piles into Ted’s car for church, as they do every Christmas morning—except for the previous year, which had been exceptional in so many ways. Several times throughout the mass, he catches Dustin subtly making faces at him from a few pews over and shakes his head at his friend’s antics, trying his best not to laugh until Dustin’s mother catches him and pinches his ear. 

Following the service, Mike and Nancy trail behind their parents as they greet the priest and other members of the congregation on their way out to the back of the church, where a fresh layer of snow coats a field of tombstones, many decorated with beautiful winter plants and already presided over by loved ones. As the Wheelers walk along the rows of graves, towards where Karen’s parents are laid to rest, Mike tugs at his mother’s sleeve and, in the cold still silence, asks if he can take a quick walk. Karen nods and watches as her son stalks across the frozen ground, knowing exactly where he’s headed. 

Mike, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat for warmth, finds himself at the base of an ancient elm tree, bare of leafs and with icicles drooping from its stately branches. There, just where a root has grown ever so slightly out of the ground, rests a makeshift wooden cross sticking out of the snow, a memorial for Elle. Frowning, Mike kneels down and readjusts the poinsettia he and Nancy had placed there last week, tucking a small angel ornament amongst its leaves—a Christmas present for Elle. 

“Merry Christmas, Elle.” 

Somewhere, in a place where the shadows are deep and the darkness is unforgiving, Eleven watches Mike kneeling with tears running down her sunken cheeks. She hastily wipes her eyes on the sleeve of the flannel shirt that the Chief had left in her box with a pretty pink ribbon yesterday.

“Merry Christmas, Mike.” 

She hopes that one day he’ll be able to hear her say those words. 

\---

_Year Three_

“Thanks for coming over guys,” Mike says, forcing a smile to his lips. He feels tired and overwhelmed—and not solely because of the six-hour campaign he’s just wrapped up with his friends. Gritting his teeth, as the boys bid him farewell and trample up the stairs, Mike tries not to dwell on the fact that no one has mentioned the absence of the blanket fort from the back corner of the room, where it had been a fixture for the past two years. He knows its sudden absence—he had dismantled it following their fight a few weeks earlier—had not gone unnoticed and he wishes that someone would have said something— _anything_ —to acknowledge how hard that must have been. 

“Michael?” His mother’s head appears through the door, left ajar by Dustin, who had been the last up the stairs, “Holly and I are making gingerbread people. Want to help us decorate them?” 

“Sure thing, Mom,” Mike answers, “I’ll be right up.” 

“Great!” Karen disappears with a smile and Mike can hear her hurrying back to the kitchen as he finishes tidying the table, stacking pizza boxes and soda cans that he’ll bring to the recycling bin in the morning. Usually, cookie decorating was Nancy’s job, but she was away at college and wouldn’t be home until Christmas Eve. Mike didn’t mind picking up the slack, especially if it meant making Holly smile. 

Taking the stairs two at a time, Mike bounds up to the kitchen and scoops Holly into his arms and spins her around, making her squeal with delight. He doesn’t notice the beaming smile that lights up his mother’s face as she kneads another ball of dough over the opposite counter. 

“Hiya Jolly Holly,” Mike kisses the top of her head. 

“Mikey!” she giggles, “I made you a cookie!” 

“Oh yeah?” Mike asks, setting Holly down carefully, “Where is it?” 

“Mommy?” Holly skips over to Karen’s side, “Where’d you put Mikey’s cookie?” 

“It’s just on the table, Holly,” Karen answers, catching Mike’s eye with a wink. Holly grabs her brother’s hand and tugs him along to the kitchen table where an array of gingerbread people, bare and ready to be decorated are laid out. Except for one, that is. Holly reaches for the only frosted cookie, a cookie slathered in thick green icing with uneven black eyes and a crooked red smile. 

“It’s the Hulk!” Holly says, holding it out to Mike with a giant smile on her face. Mike laughs and takes the cookie, making a show of gobbling it up, much to Holly’s delight. And in that moment he thinks that maybe—just maybe—this is what starting over feels like. 

\---

_Year Four_

“You should come out to Indianapolis in the summer,” Steve suggests as he and Mike string lights over the Christmas tree, its fresh pine scent filling the air of the Wheeler’s living room. They had waited for Nancy and Steve to come home from the city this year before decorating because Nancy had been slightly put out when the tree and everything else had already been put up prior to her arrival the year before. 

“I think I might,” Mike sighs, “This town is too small. Everyone is still talking about how I broke Troy’s nose last month.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Nancy asks from her spot on a stepladder by the window, wrapping red-ribboned garland around its frame. She fixes Steve with a firm glare, eyebrows knit together and eyes wide, her expression emphatic. 

“All my ideas are good ones,” Steve shrugs, “It’ll do the little man some good to escape this place.” Mike resists the urge to throw an ornament at Steve, hating how familiar his stupid nickname has become. “Besides,” Steve continues, “He already knows about…”

“Steve!” Nancy cuts him off severely.

“About what?” Mike asks, his curiosity piqued, “What do I know about?”

“Nothing,” Nancy sighs, turning back to the garland and humming _Deck the Halls_ at an unnecessary volume.

“Nancy,” Mike steps over to the window, “What happened to telling each other everything?”

The conversation that follows—about how his sister and her boyfriend hunt and kill monsters—is oddly incongruous with the festive activities they’re engaged in, but Mike finds that it somehow fits perfectly into his strange world. 

\---

_Year Five_

In the summer of ’87, Eleven had come home. She had found Mike and, together, they had fought off hell, saved a few lives, and patched up the friendships between a band of broken warriors. Things were normal again—well, as normal as they’d ever be for the Wheelers. 

This is the first Christmas that Mike will spend with Elle and he plans on making every second of it as perfect as possible. This is also the first Christmas for which Nancy won’t be coming home. A week before Christmas Eve, she calls from Maine and Mike answers the phone. 

“You know Mom’s going to be disappointed,” he says into the receiver, keeping his voice low. He’s seated in the basement, Elle asleep on the couch beside him, scrawling out Christmas card messages in his messy handwriting. 

“I know,” Nancy replies with a heavy sigh and Mike can imagine the deep frown on her face. Nancy loves Christmas more than any other time of year and he knows it will be hard for her to be away from Hawkins. “But Steve and I agree this is important enough.” 

“I get it,” Mike assures her, “And I’m sure Mom will too.” And he wasn’t just saying that. That summer, Karen had become fully aware of her children’s _hobby_ and, even though it made her perpetually nervous, she was at least glad to be in the loop.

“I hope so…” Nancy mutters. Her voice trails off and he hears Steve in the background, shouting something. A familiar rustling fills his ears and he knows Nancy has covered the receiver to hiss a _shut up_ at her boyfriend. 

“I guess I won’t see you until the summer then,” Mike continues, making a mental note to ask Will whether or not Jonathan would be home for the holidays—he highly doubted it. “Are you sure you don’t want Elle and I to come help?”

“This is Elle’s first Christmas, Mike,” Nancy says, her tone slightly berating, “She should enjoy it.”

“She’s already in love with it,” Mike laughs, “The lights, the decorations, the cookies. She hasn’t stopped wearing your old reindeer antlers and singing carols for days now.”

“Amazing,” Nancy says, a grin evident in the sound of her voice, “What are you getting her this year?”

“It’s lame,” Mike mumbles, blush creeping to his cheeks. 

“I’m sure it’s great, Mike,” Nancy insists, pressing him for details. 

“Well, we put up the tree last week and she was fascinated with the ornaments, especially the ones with pictures in them—like the one of you and Steve. So, I’m taking her to the mall tomorrow and we’re going to have our picture taken with Santa and then I’m gonna put it on an ornament and…yeah.” Mike speaks quickly, his face hot from his chin to the tips of his ears. 

“Aww, Mike,” Nancy giggles, “She’s going to love that!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike grimaces, “Let me get mom for you.” He places a hand over the receiver and, as quietly as possible, peels himself off the couch and climbs the stairs, delivering the phone to his mother and hoping she doesn’t take Nancy’s announcement too hard. 

Padding back down to the basement, Mike is surprised to see Elle sitting up and stretching, her wavy brown hair dishevelled and her red sweater wrinkled from sleep. 

“Did I wake you up?” Mike asks apologetically. Elle shakes her head. 

“Did you hear my conversation with Nancy?” He’s worried that his plan to surprise her with a special Christmas gift has been spoiled, but Elle shakes her head again and he can tell, by the gentle look in her eyes, that she’s telling the truth. Mike smiles as Elle shifts over on the couch, making more room, gesturing at the spot next to her. He sets himself down and she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Mike?” 

“Yes?” He gently kisses the top of her head, taking in the scent of her shampoo—it reminds him of Starbursts. 

“Are there more Christmas cookies?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think—I love hearing from you.
> 
> In other news, there's a _Monster Hunters_ sequel in the works, featuring our favourite OT3  & their baseball bat. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Val <3


End file.
